


a cathedral to your name

by Iblis_Daughter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bottom Castiel/Top Sam Winchester, Dissociation, Episode: s07e21 Reading is Fundamental, Fluff and Angst, Improper Use of a Rosary, M/M, Meg(mentioned briefly), Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Slow Burn, crazy!Cas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-10 21:31:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18416240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iblis_Daughter/pseuds/Iblis_Daughter
Summary: He doesn't see Lucifer anymore. Instead, he sees bits and pieces of Sam's memories, flitting like fireflies in the dark.The problem is, Sam doesn't remember them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written during 48 hours and going of no sleep with very cold hands. I really love Sastiel, it feels like such a sweet, understanding pairing, though I also really love Destiel and primarily read that. Combine that with a crappy poem I found and you get this. 
> 
> Canon-divergent near end of season 7.  
> Typed on a crappy old version of WordPad whilst listening to this on loop: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jP6aZ2Y-Owg

"Why did we bring him?"  
  
Sam looked up from the screen over at Dean, still typing away with practiced fingers. Dean was leaning sullenly against the kitchen counter, holding a beer. He raised an eyebrow. Sam sighed.  
  
"You know why, Dean. He can't...he can't take care of himself right now."  
  
Sam knew that his brother was spooked from the Hester incident. Not to mention there was still the looming threat of a certain  _Dick_ over all their heads.   
  
Dean chugged the last half of his bottle and set it unceremoniously in the sink with a loud  _clink_. He wiped his mouth and gripped the edge of the counter.   
  
"The slimy shits that  _he_ took in are still loose on the world, Sam," he finally said.  
  
Turning his head, he stared out the window where Cas was sitting in the grass beyond the porch, cross-legged and staring into the night sky. The breeze was ruffling his dark hair into peaks, and there was a little smile on his face.  
  
"We're all he's got," Sam reminded Dean quietly. Dean shook his head and rubbed at his temple exasperatedly.   
  
"Yeah, well, tough luck, choosing to shack up to us of all people," Dean said bitterly. "World comes first. We clean up the mess he made."   
  
He glanced upwards at the clock edging towards eleven and rubbed his eyes. "World tomorrow. Cas next."  
  
Dean started towards the bedroom and paused, his back still turned. "Sammy."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
Dean's shoulders slumped ever so slightly. "I...I'm grateful, alright? I'm glad you're not sick anymore, that you're safe. I'm glad you're back."  
  
"His heart was in the right place," Sam said. "You know that. It always was."  
  
Dean's eyes flickered back to the open front door to Cas' distant back. He looked like he was about to say something else, but changed his mind.  _I need time,_ his tired green eyes said through the crack of the bedroom door as he shut it behind him, and Sam gazed back with a silent,  _I know._  
  
                                                                                        *    *   *  
  
Sam washed up the dishes, placing each one in Castiel's hands. The angel stood next to him in his scrubs and soft psych ward shoes studiously drying every dish with the care of a statue in the Louvre. Sam wasn't sure why Cas was so obsessed with cleaning around the cabin, but he had an inkling it lent him a shred of calm and order. It was almost domestic, Sam reflected as he put the last mug in Cas' hands.  
  
"Is Dean avoiding me?"   
  
The sound of Cas' voice broke the peaceful silence, and the angel looked up at him questioningly.  
  
"It's...complicated, Cas," Sam gently plucked the towel and mug from Cas as he fixated on a spot on the wooden floor, "He just needs time. He'll be back."  
  
"He is still upset," Cas said plaintively. "I see it."  
  
"Dick is still out there, Cas," Sam didn't really know what else to say. "He's stressed. Adjusting. We all are. It'll be better when it's over."  
  
Cas shuffled his back against the countertop and sank down to hug his knees. "Fireflies get upset and stressed."  
  
"I- what?"  
  
"Fireflies," Castiel repeated insistently, "People put them in glass jars that used to have jam inside of them and they don't like it. It stresses them out a lot, Sam."  
  
"Right," Sam said, blinking slowly, "Um. That makes sense."  
  
"The jars smell," Cas continued, "And it's not big enough."  
  
He swiveled pale blue eyes up to Sam expectantly, who was at a loss.  
  
"I'm...sure there's room-" Sam regretted beginning as soon as he started because Cas stood up and tilted his head at him intently, expression as dead serious as if they were discussing an impending funeral.  
  
"No, they're light," Cas said determinedly, "Can't be in a jar. They don't like it, Sam. It's cruel."  
  
"Right," Sam said again, scratching the back of his head. "Well, I'm going to bed, then. Thanks, Cas, for helping with the dishes."  
  
He could feel his eyes boring into the back of his skull as he strode to the couch, lifting the thick comforter and fluffing it out, removing the thick book under it and placing it off to the side. Sam did his best to ignore it until Cas was practically breathing down his shoulderblade and caused him to involuntarily jump in place.  
  
"Cas!" The angel gazed at him quizzically. "Space!"  
  
"My apologies," Cas said politely in his deep baritone, backing up. Sam climbed under the blankets and shut his eyes.  
  
The peace only lasted a few minutes before he could hear-no,  _sense_ , the laser pointer burn, and he threw an arm over his face and groaned.  
  
"Go watch Dean sleep?" Sam offered. Cas gazed at him gravely from his perched position atop the coffee table and shook his head slowly.  
  
"I don't think he would take kindly to that right now," he said, and he looked what Sam guessed to be sad about it, though it read more like Cas was just constipated with bleary puppy eyes.  
  
Cas took the opportunity to yawn, loud and unabashed, and teetered on the edge of the table before catching himself.  
  
"Do you need sleep?" Sam pulled a pillow out from under him and shoved it in Cas' arms. "Go on, get rest. I need to sleep, too."  
  
Cas took a minute to register the hint in Sam's words before nodding and standing up, hugging the pillow protectively against his chest. Sam exhaled a sigh of relief, but his eyes snapped open again when Cas placed his foot on the couch cushion and hauled himself up until he was a little ball in the corner. He squirmed as he adjusted in place behind Sam's thighs and let out a small sound of contentment before flopping to the side.  
  
"Uh." Sam strained his legs upwards as far as he could get to try to make distance, but Cas merely took advantage of it and wiggled closer.  
  
"You took the couch," Cas mumbled into his pillow still trapped in his knees. "Much like a mother elephant clears the nest for her young before she lays eggs. But not to worry, I have made adequate room."   
  
His eyes were already half-shut, nuzzling into the warm curve of Sam's calves, and Sam wondered if it was better to be on the floor. Eventually, he gave up, pulling the comforter back up and around them both and trying to ignore how that tented the body heat even more between them.  
  
"Elephants don't lay eggs," Sam stated to the ceiling.   
  
"Pachyderms used to," Cas rumbled dreamily, muffled from under the blanket, and that was that.  
  
__  
*    *   *  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song while I was typing this:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yfy1rWTTej0
> 
> The Thomas Kincade painting puzzle in question is considered relatively rare:
> 
> https://thomaskinkade.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/11/bbdnml_uf_je.jpg

The sunlight poured through the thin curtains of the morning-fogged windows, and Sam stirred, still half-asleep.  
  
It was very warm despite the frigid dawn air, and he burrowed deeper in the blankets. A muffled groan jolted his eyes open, and he could feel something wrapped around his leg. Everything came back to him.  
  
"Cas," Sam whispered urgently, shaking his right leg under the comforter. There was no reply, the angel's arms gripped tighter until Sam was sure he was going to lose circulation, and he yelped when the encircling limbs hitched closer to his ass, and, yup, that was a _cheek_ being pressed to his behind like he was the world's best pillow. "Cas, dammit, move. Go. Get."  
  
The sound of the bedroom door swinging open made Sam freeze. Shit.  _Shit._ He didn't want his brother finding his angel strung under the blankets like a misbehaving cat that was missing half it's frontal lobe.  
  
"Morning," Dean yawned as he stumbled into the kitchen area. He rubbed his eyes and started filling a pot for coffee.   
  
"Hey." Sam resisted the urge to kick the sleeping angel under the covers in the crotch as Cas nuzzled in impossibly closer. If he had been in the right frame of mind, Sam was sure Castiel would be mortified at his current predicament, but as it was, the angel seemed perfectly content to stay right where he was.  
  
"Taking off to find that righteous bone," Dean rubbed his eyes and grimaced at his burnt cup of caffeine. "Unless you wanna chop off my arm."  
  
"Ha," Sam jumped in place, wincing, and caught Dean's suspicious glance from over the back of the sofa. "Ha, that's...really funny, Dean. I'll get up in a minute and meet you outside-"  
  
"Nah." Dean was still eyeing him when he set the mug on the counter. "It's easy, I'll be back by tonight, you stay and get the other ingredients together and keep an eye on Cas."  
  
"Y-yeah," Sam grit through his teeth, "Sounds good."  
  
"Speaking of ex-God, where's he flitted off to?" Dean asked conversationally. "Are you okay, Sammy? Did I catch you at a bad time?"  
  
"I'm great, Dean," Sam composed his features as calmly as he could and ran a hand through his hair. "Just need a little bit more sleep, I guess."  
  
"Well don't sleep too long. We gotta Dick to circumcise." Dean looked amused as he slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and headed to the front door and turned the knob. "Oh, and Sam?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"It's perfectly normal as a growing young man to get morning woo-"  
  
He dodged the pillow Sam flung in his direction and walked out chortling and jingling his keys. The sound of the Impala's engine rumbled as it graveled over the dirt and away, and Sam laid back down with his face in his hands and groaned.  
  
Sam flipped off the comforter and hissed. "Cas.  _Castiel._ Off. Now."  
  
"Mm," the angel rumbled against his upper thighs, and opened his eyes sleepily. "You are...very warm. Your legs are very long, Sam Winchester. It is...blasphemous. You should have made them shorter. Closer to Earth, closer to God."  
  
"Yes," Sam said impatiently. He jostled his legs pointedly. "Can you go now?"  
  
"It appears the aura of stress you insist on carrying around all the time is very conducive to a good night's rest," Cas intoned. His arms loosened slightly but there was no sign of him leaving the awkward position anytime soon. He stretched his lower half out languidly. "Mm. I did not dream, but I had very pleasant visions for once. Lots of purple sunflowers. You would have liked it."  
  
"Right, that's it." Sam was past hurting Cas' feelings at this point, and planted his foot squarely in Castiel's sharp hipbone. It elicited a sharp, surprised  _oof_ and then Sam's world became an upside-down blur as he lost his tentative balance on the edge of the couch and tumbled over in a tangle of limbs and blanket.  
  
Cas' hair was absolutely wrecked, sticking up in every direction, and he looked up at Sam balefully from where he was on his chest from under the wreckage of his twisted-up coat. It was almost a hurt expression, and Sam hated it instantly. He shoved at Castiel's forearms uselessly and cursed the angel's sleepy warmth nestled against him.  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?"  
  
Sam craned his head back and squinted in the light. Cas wiggled out of the blanket and tripped on the edge of his own trench.   
  
"Meg," he acknowledged excitedly, and the demon folded her arms, quirking the faintest hint of a smile.   
  
"Clarence," she drawled, and her eyes flickered to where Cas was emerging from under the covers. "And I thought Sam was just happy to see me."  
  
"What're you doing here?" Finally free, Sam stood up, cheeks burning with self-consciousness. Meg shrugged at the coffee table.   
  
"Not staying long," she said smoothly, and patted Cas on the back. Sam envied how easily she broke his embrace. "Not interested in dying to whatever else you two bozos have fucked up. Just wanted to drop this off for our damaged angel."  
  
Cas picked up the dusty puzzle box and hugged it to his arms. "Stay?" he asked, eyes wide and hopeful. Meg shook her head.   
  
"Afraid not, hun." Sam ignored the demon's appreciative cursory once-over as he stalked past her.   
  
"I wanted to show you the moon," Castiel protested. "It's almost full."  
  
"I can't, you can thank your boyfriends for that." Meg shot Sam a look over her shoulder, and Sam scowled back. He knew she was referring to the Crowley incident."Enjoy the puzzle."  
  
"I'm sure if he wanted it he could've flown off and gotten it," Sam pointed out, and Meg chuckled. Cas was already sitting down and pouring out the pieces onto the table.  
  
"Yeah, you're welcome for being able to study in quiet, Sam," she said smugly, and patted Castiel on the head. He beamed.  
  
"As always, so kind, bringing me rare gifts out of the goodness of your own obsidian heart, even through your face your true form is twistedly beau-"  
  
"That's my cue," Meg said, and, "Behave with my angel, yeah?" before vanishing.  
  
Sam turned to the kitchen countertop and saw the coffeemaker had also disappeared. It reappeared a moment later, sans coffeepot.  
  
He pressed the heel of his palms into his eyes and held back a frustrated scream.  
  
                                                                                             *   *   *  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song while typing: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xSbAFPeIv8Q
> 
> Yes, I listen to a lot of sad music. Some sadness happening in this chapter.

He finally found a dusty tin of black tea in the back of the cupboard, and settled in on the armchair. On the table, Castiel was assembling the puzzle pieces by color in neat stacks. One threatened to tip any second into his teacup.  
  
Sam hated to admit when a certain demon was right, but it  _was_ quiet, apart from the tiny  _click_ of whenever a piece slotted into place. He let himself lose it in his ancient tome about Leviathan for a few minutes.  
  
It was short-lived.  
  
"Which are you?" Castiel asked without looking up, and nudged the puzzle box towards Sam. It was a Thomas Kinkade Beauty and the Beast painting, and the colors glowed as if possessed.   
  
"Character?" Cas nodded. "Uh. I don't know. I haven't seen the movie in a long time." Sam came to a sudden realisation. "Wait, you watched  _Disney movies?"_  
  
"I am the candlestick," Cas declared. He pointed at Sam. "You...you are the clock."  
  
"I am not," Sam retorted, and felt mildly offended. Cas narrowed his eyes, and Sam wondered what the consequences for pissing off a celestial being over a cartoon classic were. Sometimes he forgot that the angel in front of him was, in fact, an angel, however broken.  
  
Cas slumped his shoulders. "The rose, then."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"You are the rose." Cas poked him in the arm, and returned to the puzzle. "You have gone through a lot and come out of it."  
  
"The rose wilted."  
  
   "I'm sure you have time."  
  
"...Thanks, Cas."  
  
He smiled widely, and something twisted inside Sam's chest at the easy innocence of it. Clearing his throat, he put the book down on the armrest.  
  
"Hey," he said quietly. Cas didn't look up and continued putting together the night sky. "How are you...how are you doing?"  
  
"I am fine, Sam," Cas said dismissively, but his hands faltered at a corner fragment. "Though I could be feeding the pigeons in the Vatican right now. I don't think the priests are feeding them like they said they were. Unless I'm there-"  
  
"Cas, don't fly off," Sam interrupted, and the angel finally looked up at him, eyes tortured with worry, hands clasped in his lap. "You told me you don't see Lucifer anymore, yeah? What do you see then? You said your...visions were pleasant or whatever last night."  
  
"Oh, yes," Cas smiled wistfully. "A lot of colors. They taste a lot like wildflowers. Very underappreciated flavor."  
  
Sam prayed internally that Cas was going to blink at some point, but the angel just kept staring past and into him all at once with his large blue eyes like he was Xeroxing his soul. He didn't know how Dean could stand it, let alone reciprocate it.  
  
"Sometimes they're not very pleasant," he admitted. "Like the time you scraped your knee and broke your ankle. That was particularly painful to witness."  
  
Sam blinked, and Castiel tilted at him and copied the same slow, blinking motion.   
  
"What?"  
  
"Your ankle," Cas repeated softly, as if he was trying to not spook a large, dumb animal. "When you were six."  
  
"What?" Sam was aware he probably sounded slow, but he couldn't wrap his head around this. "Are...are you seeing things about me?"  
  
"Yes," Cas said simply. He shrunk into himself a bit as Sam shook his head bewilderedly and gestured in his direction.   
  
"That's...kind of important, Cas. Why didn't you say anything sooner?"  
  
"I assumed you would be upset," Cas reasoned. "And it seemed very private. Taking on your burden had an aftereffect."  
  
Sam shook his head more rapidly. "No, Cas, you don't get it. I never broke my ankle."  
  
"Yes?" The angel seemed confused, and he sat up and shuffled closer until his knees were touching Sam's feet. "I saw it."  
  
"No, Cas, I di-"  
  
Sam's words died in his throat as Castiel grabbed his arm and placed his other hand on his knee, suddenly aware of how close they were. From here, he could see the fluttering pulse of Castiel's throat and the dark lashes under his disheveled hair, and he coughed awkwardly.  
  
"Space..." he said weakly.  
  
"I will show you," Cas stated determinedly, and slid his hand up his knee to stretch two fingers towards his forehead.   
  
                                                                                      *   *   *  
  
He was a child again.  
  
Or he wasn't, and he was simply floating somewhere outside of his body and watching a child that was him. Sam wasn't sure.  
  
He both saw and felt the sandy-haired little boy running down the sidewalk, hot concrete thumping under his untied shoes. He was excited, exuberant. His brother struggled to keep up behind him, backpack bouncing.  
  
"Sammy, wait up! You're going too far out!"  
  
"Catch me, catch me, Deanny!" the child( _he_ ) lisped happily, and laughed. The sun beat down in golden, glorious warmth, and Sam saw a butterfly up ahead and gave chase.  
  
They had snuck out from the motel while their father was out, and Dean had promised him ice cream. Dean had spent the past four days raking leaves to scrape together enough money to keep him fed. Their father was supposed to be back two days ago, but changed it to a week.  
  
Sam's sneaker caught on a rock, and he went tumbling down the inclined street. Something snapped painfully, and he cried out where he laid, dazed, rolled halfway down the road.  
  
"Shit," Dean cursed, finally catching up to him. He bent down, and Sam could barely make out his worried expression through the blur of tears.  
  
"M-my knee hurts," Sam choked out through his sobs. He looked down and there was blood coating his knobbly knee through his shorts. Dean hushed him soothingly, taking in the sight of the twisted foot that was still in too much shock for Sam to register yet.  
  
"You'll be fine, Sammy." Dean hoisted him up in his arms carefully with a grunt, ready to walk the mile back to the motel. "I got you. We'll get some ice on that and set you up. Don't worry."  
  
"B-but ice cream..." Sam whimpered into the backpack and the crook of his brother's neck. He clutched at the strap of the backpack.    
  
"You'll be a-okay, Sammy." Dean trudged up the hill. "Everything's going to be okay."  
  
From over Dean's shoulder, Sam spotted through his swollen eyes a dark-haired man gazing at him sadly from behind the trees.  
                                                                                           
                                                                                          *   *   *  
  
Sam gasped like he was drowning, suddenly back in the armchair, and Cas rubbed calming little circles into his knees and ankle. His head was slumped against his lap.   
  
"Fuck," Sam stuttered. "F-Cas, I  _forgot_ that, Dean walked back to get me that ice cream and dad came home early and beat him-"  
  
"I am not overly fond of your father," Cas said solemnly, moving so his chin rested on Sam's thigh and he was looking up at him again.  
  
Sam gripped the sides of the chair, breathing hard, heartbeats running so fast they were blending into each other. He was dimly aware he was sweating, and the intimacy was stifling. He stood up abruptly to pace in the kitchen.  
  
"How is this happening? Did you  _absorb_ me? I don't remember this and I should remember."  
  
"You lost so much," Cas said softly, and Sam's heart jumped as the angel stepped into his personal space bubble again, resting a hand like ice on his heaving chest.   
  
"Lost? Lost or you  _took_ it, Cas?" Sam was practically yelling now, and he reached up to grab Cas' wrists and push them back against the lapels of his coat and shove him away. He felt the angel stiffen.  
  
"You lost so much in the Pit," Cas whispered. "They took a lot from you, in there."  
  
He freed a hand and rested it on Sam's cheek. "I am sorry you have suffered, Sam. I understand it, now."  
  
Sam shrunk back, swatting him off as he turned his back. He took deep breaths, in and out, and the room swam.  
  
"You don't understand anything, Cas," he spat. "I don't understand why you have my memories."  
  
"Sam, I didn't take-"  
  
"How would you know?!" Sam shouted, and he could feel tears prickle the corners of his eyes. "How would you know  _anything_ how you are right now?"  
  
Castiel paused, mouth open, and he clamped it shut and thin in an expression of profound hurt. He looked away from him and lowered his arms. There was a heavy silence, and Sam could hear only his heartbeat echoing out into it.  
  
"Cas," he said eventually, voice shaky. "I'm-"  
  
Castiel's eyes darted up to meet his, and the look in them stung the thing that had twisted in his chest earlier, and he vanished with a ruffle of feathers.  
  
Sam was alone.  
  
                                                                                               *   *   *  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stopping here for today, will resume chapter-adding tomorrow. Let me know if it's alright so far.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song while typing: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=em4pzkpwEWA
> 
> The pier: https://3di9nx2pw3s1jibo2g8ef7wo-wpengine.netdna-ssl.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/12/VenturaPier_Latitudes-109.jpg

"It's going to be a few more days. Security around this stupid thing is tighter than-"  
  
"That's fine, Dean," Sam said quietly into the phone. His voice was hoarse from praying at the sky for the past hour. "You do what you gotta do."  
  
"Put Cas on," said Dean, "I know he doesn't wanna be involved, but he can just snap in and out so fast, grab the bone and skate on out."  
  
Sam sighed. "He's...not here right now."  
  
"Flew off again?" Dean snorted. Sam winced, and cleared his throat.   
  
"No, I mean, yes, he flew off. But I...might've made him do it."  
  
"Damn, Sam," Dean exclaimed, a bit too close to the speaker, "And I thought you were the sensitive one. What you do, call his wings short?"  
  
"No!" Sam snapped, then deflated. "He'll be back, I'm sure."  
  
"Great." Dean's fingers tapped his dashboard rhythmically. "Thanks, Sam, I love staying in this crappy green-wallpaper'd motel hell longer than I need to cus you set off a crazy angel."  
  
"You do love it," Sam replied dryly.   
  
"Yeah...no," and Dean lowered his voice conspiratorially, "Sam, the TV is  _black-and-white-_ "  
  
"Goodnight, Dean," Sam cut him off, and clicked off the cellphone.  
  
He sat there in the dim light for a while. The armchair dug into his back. Outside, the sun was just beginning to set.  
Sam turned his face up to the ceiling. He'd been trying for a good while now, and there was no reason it would work if he did it again. The angel would return on his own time, and Sam couldn't begin to sort through the mess that was Cas' head. The problem was, it was starting to look like it wasn't as quite of a mess as they had all previously thought.  
  
"Cas," he said, eyes closing, "I'm sorry for what I said. I was just really shocked. Come back and figure it out with me? We need you for all of this. There won't be a world if you don't help us."  
  
He slid open his eyes and took a sharp intake of breath. Castiel was standing less than a foot away from his face and staring straight at him, expression unreadable in the near dark.  
  
"You send very long messages," Cas stated. "Repeatedly."  
  
"Yeah," Sam breathed. "Uh...sorry."  
  
"You were drowning out the ocean." Castiel sounded almost accusatory as he climbed up on the armrest to perch like a pigeon.  
  
Sam licked his lips and tried to ignore how Cas was now leaning stiffly against his side. On impulse, he raised a shaky hand and placed it atop Cas' head.   
  
"You were at the beach? That's far." Sam tried to make conversation. Cas tilted his head at him, craning his neck down, and Sam quickly removed his hand when he realised he was stroking through his hair like a spooked cat. "Haven't been to one since I was little."  
  
"It is good you remember that, at least," Cas said agreeably. "It is not like sand in an hourglass. You are all mostly-" he prodded Sam's nose with a finger, making him momentarily cross-eyed, "-There. Unlike the starfish I was throwing back."  
  
Sam realised there was a familiar texture on the front of his pants now, and jolted back when he saw it was streams of  _sand.  
  
_ "Ack," he said elegantly. "Ack, ack,  _ack_ , Cas, what the fuck?"  
  
He twisted his body to glare at the angel before an all too uncomfortable whooshing took his breath away, and suddenly the armchair was settled in a hill of sand on top of a pier. There was nobody else in sight, only the stretch of old, worn, seawater-damaged wooden planks and the din of the ocean waves lapping at the base.   
  
Cas apparated right behind him with another  _whoosh_ wearing a satisfied grin. Sam shot up from the chair and shakily stepped over to the railing to peer over the edge at the blue-green waves.  
  
"Are we-" Sam shook his head to clear the cobwebs, "Is this a real beach? Not another memory?"  
  
Cas laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "Memories do not smell like fish," he said wisely, as if this was something Sam should have known by default.  
For whatever reason, that made sense, and Sam inhaled the smell of fish and salt and the  _sea_ and squinted out at the sunset.  
  
They stood there for what felt like hours, until the sun went down and the moon rose. Nobody came by, and Sam suspected Cas had something to do with that. It was very relaxing. Cas didn't always stand motionless, he drifted around to touch the nails in the pier or untangle random bits of fishing line, and at one point, hung almost upside down over the side to look at underneath the pier, coat flopping up over his scrubs.  
  
Sam was sure he hadn't ever felt so at ease in his life. Or at least, for the first time in a long time. The seagulls had quieted down as night fell(for the best really, as Cas had expended a good amount of time chasing a particularly ornery one around the dock).  
  
"So," Sam said finally, and Cas turned to shoot him a small smile, "Is this where you go? When you run off?"  
  
"I fly to many places," Cas answered. He had somehow gotten ahold of a dreidel and was trying to spin it on the railing. "But you said you have not been to the beach."  
  
"Well, thanks, Cas," Sam smiled back at him. "I'm sorry for earlier."  
  
"Dean said I don't know what sorry means," Cas replied. "There is no need to apologise."  
  
"Ah." Sam didn't know what to say to that, and he let the air slip into an awkward, still silence.  
  
"You should probably apologise to that crab, though," Cas added, cocking his head at the angry snapping thing near Sam's foot, and Sam yelped and danced around it before managing to boot it off the pier.  
  
                                                                                       *   *   *


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos/comments, I'm floored. 
> 
> Song while typing: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PEBS2jbZce4

Sam didn't remember returning to the cabin. The last thing he remembered was dozing off in the armchair while the moon glimmered over the gentle waves.  
  
 _Cas must've zapped us back,_ he thought hazily, warm and still mostly asleep. He didn't want to open his eyes, but he could feel the angel settled behind him and breathing, warm and sweet, on the back of his neck. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had so much contact with another person; Dean hadn't cuddled him since he was a kid. With Cas, it was probably something he should have nipped in the bud but never gotten around to it. Part of him longed too much for some sort of comfort.    
  
Sam turned over on the couch carefully. When had the angel begun sleeping? Was it an indulgence he allowed himself, or was the insanity and memories he absorbed just that tiring? He could ask, but Sam was never sure if he'd get a direct or even correct answer.  
  
The moonlight through the window was sparse, pouring through in lazy strips like milk through ladder rungs. It framed and threw the planes of Castiel's face into sharp relief from where he was bundled under the comforter. Hair wild, it cast his lashes in silver.   
  
His eyes slid slowly open to meet Sam's, and Sam released the exhale he hadn't realised he was holding.  
  
"Hey," Sam breathed.  
  
"Hello, Sam," Castiel whispered, voice sleep-rough-velvet. He raised a hand to Sam's cheek, and the man caught it in his own. It was ice, a reminder of the inhumanity of the creature next to him that had chosen to  _fucking cuddle_ an abomination.  
  
"Comfortable?" Sam rasped to stop the thoughts racing in his head.  
  
Cas gazed back unblinkingly, pupils small pinpricks in his blue irises.   
  
"Yes," he said finally, and let his hand slip from Sam's grasp to fall onto his shoulder. Then, "Cats can sleep twenty out of twenty-four hours-"  
  
" _Cas._ "  
  
Castiel froze in place, staring wide-eyed. He shuddered like it was taking him everything to return to reality, and, with a pang of guilt, Sam realised it probably did every time Dean demanded answers from him.  
  
"Sam." There was something strange in his tone, and Sam thought he could detect a hint of sadness, apology, and the  _thing_ in his heart did a flip. The sympathy taste of it tightened his throat, and he made an impulsive decision and surged forward to press his lips to Castiel's.  
  
They were warm, slightly chapped but full, and Cas was stiffly unmoving in place beneath him. Sam didn't open his eyes, but he knew if he did, Cas' would be wide open. He pulled back, suddenly very aware and conscious of his actions. What the actual hell had he been thinking?  
  
"Sorry, sorry-"  
  
He was cut off by Castiel's hands grabbing the sides of his head and kissing him like he was drowning. It was messy and uncoordinated, oddly chaste, and his teeth bumped his several times.  
  
"I..." Castiel gasped between kisses, and Sam could feel the wetness on his cheeks and wasn't sure if it was his or his own, "I...don't..." He frantically clutched at Sam's back and tangled his hand in his hair, "I don't know what's wrong with me..."  
  
"You'll get better," Sam tried, and Cas shook his head at him.  
  
"No...Sam,  _Sam..._ I've never been better. I've never felt more, and I never was supposed to, I was not made right, but that cannot be true, and now? I don't belong anywhere, not in Heaven, not on Earth, maybe in Hell, but I will find a way to ruin that too-"  
  
"Cas," Sam said, and the angel paused, not meeting his eyes. He was panting softly, tears tracked and smeared down his face. His shoulders slumped and his hands fell away.  
  
"I do not belong," he whispered, defeatedly. "I do not belong, and I do not deserve to."  
  
Sam abruptly rolled so Castiel was on top of him, thighs awkwardly straddling Sam's wider own, palms planted on his chest. He encircled him in a crushing hug.  
  
"And I do?" Sam laughed quietly. He nosed Cas' damp jawline and gently kissed his ear and the furrow of his brow. "Neither of us belong anywhere, but maybe...we can belong..." Sam cupped his chin and let the angel bury his face into the crook of his neck. "We can belong here."  
  
The unspoken  _and when it's over?_ hung in the air, soundless and heavy, and Sam didn't want to address it anytime soon.  
  
Instead, he chose to fall back asleep.  
  
                                                                                           *   *   *  
  
Sam awoke with his arms empty to the sound of morning birds screeching and concrete under his cheek.  
  
  
Something rapping against glass impatiently got his attention and he rolled up, hair sticking to drool.  
  
"Hngh?" he asked intelligently, blinking at the sun.   
  
The blonde girl in front of him huffed.  
  
"You don't need to sleep outside," she said, crossing her arms. "You're not homeless anymore, Sam. Cmon, get in the minivan. The showers are going to be open soon, we gotta hit them before class."  
  
"Sorry," he apologised, standing up, wincing as his knees cracked from their uncomfortable position. "Wait..."  
  
His heart raced, beating irregularly in his chest as he stared up at her. No. It couldn't be. Oh, God.  
  
"J-Jess?" he gasped, and she frowned, and the world floated away in ribbons.   
  
He snapped back to reality like falling in a dream and woke up struggling for breath and sweat-soaked. The blanket had been kicked off, and there was still the weight of a body in a tan trenchcoat pinning him to the couch. His heart was still thumping away too fast.  
  
"You really like sleep, huh?" Sam asked shakily. Castiel didn't answer, only groaned and curled tighter into himself.  
  
Reeling from his dream(or memory, though Sam couldn't remember whether he had remembered this before or not, and maybe memories returned just slotted back in place like nothing happened and he'd never know) Sam threw off the rest of the blanket and wiggled out to go take a shower.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been busy with boring adult life stuff, new job, doctor crap, etc. But I do intend on finishing this; it has about 3-4 more chapters to go. Thank you for sticking around to read it.   
> The book Castiel is reading is called My Life With The Wave by Catherine Cowan. Manakel is the angel of the tides and Gabriel is supposedly associated with looking over water, though I'd imagine he doesn't get much done.
> 
> Song while typing(which is actually my favorite song of all time and I highly recommend it): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KQu8FOjJXdI

When he got out of the bathroom, the smell of coffee and eggs filled the air.  
  
Sam stepped into the kitchen, towelling off his hair, and was met with the sight of Cas standing just in his scrubs at the sink. His coat was folded over the chair neatly and he was elbow-deep in scrubbing a pan.  
  
"On the table," he greeted, shooting him a small smile. Sam slid down into the chair and stared at the plate of scrambled egg whites.  
  
"You didn't have to..." he said hesitantly, picking up a fork. Castiel's shoulders looked small and slight out of his coat(did angels lose weight?)and he shut off the water and turned around to lean on the counter.   
  
"Wanted to," he said simply, and reached forward to pluck the towel from Sam's hands and lay it out to dry. "Besides, it is customary after one has slept with another-" he paused politely as Sam choked on his spoon, "-I know that much."  
  
Cas sat in the chair across the small table and started flipping through a picture book as if nothing had changed. Clearing his throat, Sam took a long sip from the coffee and put down the now empty mug. He stood up and stretched, wincing as his joints cracked. He hesitated, and, before he could think better of it, leaned down to wrap his arms around Cas' shoulders. There was no telling how long he could get away with it, what with their lives and not wanting the stress of explaining it to his brother. The angel's shoulders were as small as they looked, smaller than they should be on a nearly six foot tall man. Stress, probably.  
  
Sam didn't want to think about the alternative. Not right now. Instead, he pressed a lazy kiss to the side of Cas' head.  
  
"Dean is coming tonight, he texted," he said, and, "What you reading?"  
  
He watched, captivated, as Cas traced long fingers over the illustration of an angry ocean wave caught in a storm and turned the page.   
  
"It's about a boy that takes a wave home and then is surprised it does wave things," he said, voice close enough Sam could feel the vibration through his own chest, "It's...interesting. Though I do not know what he expected. Waves are notoriously temperamental creatures; I cannot tell you how many times Manakel came down to lecture them on their improper alignments towards the moon and Gabriel had them riled up so they'd interrupt him by splashing into his wavelength."  
  
Sam laughed. "Manakel?"  
  
"I...don't know where he is. Maybe dead," Castiel said quietly. He closed the book and folded his hands in his lap, and Sam felt guilty for bringing up what was clearly a sore subject.   
  
"Sorry," Sam apologised. He let go and stood up, conscious of the sudden awkwardness. "How are you feeling? Are you still hallucinating?"  
  
"A little," Cas said honestly. His eyes followed Sam around the table when he gathered the plate and cup to put in the sink. "It's...different every day."  
  
"Anything important?" Sam asked. Cas shook his head.  
  
"No, if I find anything of import, I'll show you."  
  
"I'd rather make that decision as to what's important, Cas," Sam stated as gently as he could. Cas pursed his lips into a thin line.   
  
"What if you are better off without some of them?" There was almost a defiant streak of stubbornness in his words, and Sam shook his head.  
  
"No offense, but they're my memories. Good or bad." Sam was firm. Cas looked as though he was struggling to not dissociate in place, nails pressed into his palms as he worried at his bottom lip with his teeth, eyes darting.   
  
"Give them to me." Cas bit his lip harder, shaking his head rapidly in refusal. Sam grabbed his arm a bit harder than he meant to, and regretted the flinch the angel gave him when he shook it a little. God be damned if he was ever going to let him play at God, not with this.   
  
"Cas,  _now._ "  
  
He was accosted by images in rapid succession, one after the other, barely a half-second between. Fire and ice, flames and towering, dark, lonely glaciers, a white expanse of nothingness, pitch-blackness, red creeping in on the edges, a low laugh that prickled his back and set off every alarm, the acid smell of blood and smoke and metal in his mouth-  
  
Sam was dimly aware he had somehow fell off the chair at some point, and Castiel was curled up in a ball on his knees clutching at his head and fucking  _whimpering_ in place. The scene around them was changing as fast as the images still coursing through Sam's mind, blurs of green and concrete and brown. Blindly, he reached out his other hand to grasp at the edge of Castiel's shirt.  
  
All of a sudden the world tilted and it felt like he had free-falled in a nightmare, stomach dropping out from under him, and Sam saw  _nothing_.  
  
                                                                                            *   *   *  
  
Sam woke up for the second time that day with an empty pillow pressed into his face. He blinked, trying to focus his eyes on unfamiliar brick, before a damp, cold rag dabbed over his forehead.  
  
"Are you alright?" Castiel's voice floated somewhere off to the side, concern written into every syllable.   
  
"Unf?" Sam offered, and squinted his eyes tight at the pounding headache in his brain. It took every ounce of effort he had to will himself into a sitting position, and he let his back lean on the headboard. "Where...where'd you take us?"  
  
Castiel shuffled uncomfortably from where he sat on the edge of the bed, and Sam could see he somehow had retrieved his coat and pulled the sleeves over his hands. He stood up and headed over to stare through the window.  
  
"I took us where I go when this sort of thing happens," he answered. Sam could see more clearly now. They were in some sort of alcove or tower room made of tan brick while pigeons cooed outside the window. He tossed off the thin linen blanket.  
  
"Vatican?" he guessed, and Cas nodded slowly. Sam groaned and fell back, throwing a forearm over his eyes. "Ah, Christ, you zapped us to the Vatican."  
  
Sam could feel Castiel gazing at him reproachfully for that from where he stood, shoulders and arms inexplicably covered in doves.  
  
                                                                                           *   *   *  
  
  



	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't get the job.  
> Rip, back to art teaching I go.
> 
> Song while typing: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BK4DZHDGgZI
> 
> The Holy Spirit glass and statue altar: http://blogs.cuit.columbia.edu/deb2170/files/2014/12/Back-of-Chair-of-St-Peter.jpg
> 
> The poem(if you can call something that short a poem) is mine. Bit of a longer chapter this time, to make up for my slowness. I did as much research into Catholicism and the Vatican as I was able to, but apologies if it is not accurate.

"Look, I'm sorry," Sam's voice was muffled under his forearm. There was a shuffle on the end of the bed but no voice in reply, so he lifted off his arm to peer at Castiel's back. A dove was vibrating up a storm on his shoulder and another was perched on Sam's ankle hanging over the edge. Even so, Sam could see the resolute hard line of his shoulder turned to him.  
He sighed and rolled up.  
  
"I'm sorry," he repeated. "Again."  
  
He punctuated his words with an awkward slap to Cas' shoulderblade, and the angel finally looked up at him.  
  
"You do not have anything to apologise for," he said slowly. "They are your memories. I failed you by taking them, even if I did not mean to. Your reaction is warranted."  
  
"Yeah, well," Sam plopped down next to him, accidentally jostling him with his thigh, "I want to. You have stuff going on too, I think we forget that. We care about you. They're my memories, and I never want anyone to have to go through them like I did."  
  
Cas turned, and Sam was hyperaware of how close their faces were.   
  
"You more than care," Cas said observantly. He craned his head up, and there was no avoiding his eyes now. Sam swallowed hard and tried to focus on the top of Cas' head instead of meeting his piercing gaze. "Did you mean what you said? About belonging?"  
  
"I..." Sam stuttered over his words, "Uh...Cas, it's-"  
  
The angel was close enough he could feel the heat coming off his skin and the warmth of his breath on the curve of his ear. A hand splayed over his heart, and Castiel's eyes looked slightly glassy as they darted down to stare pointedly at his lips.   
  
Too much heat, Sam realised. He snatched up his hand and pressed a large palm to Cas' forehead until the angel went cross-eyed. There was the thrum of a rapid heartbeat tattooing through the sweat-sheen of fire under his fingertips.   
  
"Cas..." Sam's eyes widened. "They're making you sick, aren't they?"  
  
Cas pulled his hand free and looked away again. He tapped his forehead.  
  
"I'm not so sick here, anymore," he said hesitantly, and Sam cursed himself for not hearing the slight quaver sooner, "But here, not so much." He rapped his fist against his chest.  
  
"Shit," Sam breathed. "Are you going to be alright?"  
  
Cas found his hand on the sheet and interlaced their fingers and squeezed. "I don't know. Need time."  
  
"Double shit," Sam said. "Are you going to be able to get us back? Dean's coming back tonight with the righteous bone."  
  
Cas slumped forward until his cheek was resting on Sam's knee. "Few hours?" His voice was muffled by the denim. "The Vatican is six hours ahead."  
  
"Well, I guess we could be in worse places." Sam rubbed at his throbbing temple. Cas sighed contently, and a dove pecked at Sam's eyebrow.  
  
                                                                                              *   *   *  
  
It wasn't as bad as he thought, not really.   
  
Sam gaped at the massive ancient shelves of the Vatican library filled with gorgeous, gigantic tomes and the vaulted ceiling as Castiel briskly walked ahead of him, clearly having been here many times before. Every academic boner in Sam's body was fully erect.  
  
Alright. Maybe it was  _awesome_.  
  
"Oh, God," Sam moaned, tearing away from a statue to gape at a painting under glass. He stroked the side of a book with a shaking finger. "Oh,  _Gooood._ "  
  
Cas smacked his wrist. "They do not like that here, stop that. And please," he added, squinting at Sam's still slack jaw of awe, "Close your mouth, you're worrying the bishop."  
  
True to his word, there was a bishop carrying a stack of books staring open-mouthed at Sam, who immediately flushed and clamped his jaw shut.  
  
"Sorry, just...I've always wanted to go here," he confessed.   
  
They spent the next two hours sitting across one another at one of the tables, working through a stack of books in relative silence. Every once in a while, Castiel's fingers would brush his as he reached over to pull another book out of the pile, or his foot would nudge Sam's to get his attention to point out a passage or illumination.  
  
It was shaping up to one of the best days he'd had in a long time. He couldn't remember, for the life of him, when was the last time he'd felt this peaceful. Sam stared at the way Cas gently turned pages, eyes downturned as he read, and he flicked them up momentarily to Sam's and gave him a small smile. His heart swelled with that familiar, too tight feeling, and Sam recognised it for what it was now.  
  
Love.  
  
Maybe out of desperation, maybe out of circumstance, maybe out of finding someone who had made and lived through the same mistakes as he did.   
  
Maybe a combination of all three. It didn't matter. Sam was a big believer in what happens, happens. His heart threatened to beat out of his chest, the realisation making him dizzy. He let out a short bewildered laugh, and Cas looked up at him curiously.  
  
He stood up, pushing the chair back with a squeak as it dragged across the floor, and leaned over the table to press a kiss to Cas' lips. Sam felt the startled smile beneath his own and captured it as he slid his mouth over his. For all his divinity, however tarnished, he tasted delightfully  _human_ , and if it were not for the tingle of ozone mixed with electricity, Sam could almost believe it.   
  
"Sam," Castiel gasped, pulling off of him, "We are in  _God's library._ "  
  
Sam couldn't help it. He laughed breathlessly harder than he had in years at the absurdity of it all. He was in the  _Vatican_ , with small bits of his memories stored inside a sick angel that for whatever reason, was giving him the time of day.  
  
"Come on," he said, reaching out blindly for Cas' hand and pulling him up, pushing in the chair as he led him around the table.   
  
"I wanna go see St Peter's, it's a six minute walk from here."  
  
                                                                                          *   *   *  
  
The Basilica was even better up close. Bigger too, than Sam had imagined. The afternoon sun filtered through the stained-glass windows, and there were gaggles of tourists everywhere.  
  
There was a roped off section of lavishly sculpted wall with the sign CLOSED FOR REPAIRS. Sam could feel Cas squirm next to him.  
  
"What?" he asked. He gestured at the small pile of rubble. "It looks fixable, I'm sure it'll be done soon-" realisation dawned suddenly, "-wait, did you, uh..."  
  
"Yes," Cas answered stiffly. Sam barked out a disbelieving laugh.  
  
   "Oh. Oh, wow. Well. At least you didn't destroy the entire Basilica."  
  
"I was an angry false God," Cas gritted out. And that appeared to be all he wanted to say on the clearly sore subject, and he looked suddenly very interested in an assortment of cherub statues.   
  
Sam sat down at one of the pews, watching as tourists got as close as they could to the stained-glass painting of the holy spirit dove surrounded by teeming masses of sculpted angels. He wondered idly what Castiel had looked like back when it had been erected, or if he had even been on Earth at all. He made a mental note to ask him, and almost didn't notice when Cas slid into the pew next to him.   
  
"At least they got Balthazar correct," he mused, and Sam couldn't tell which of the far away angel statues he was referring to. "He told me he had specifically requested larger pectorals; it is good they forgoed his vanity for the sake of accuracy."  
  
"He had the same body that long?" Sam was surprised. Cas nodded solemnly.  
  
"His true form had five faces instead of four," he mused. "I suppose he's always been a bit narcissistic over it. Has. Had."  
  
Castiel looked morose at the thought and picked at the corner of his sleeve.  
  
"Sorry," Sam apologised. "I keep bringing up the bad times, huh?"  
  
Cas was quiet, staring down at the dusty wood of the pew. "I did a lot of bad things," he said, barely audible, and Sam could feel how he was curling into himself.  
  
They sat in silence, contemplating the throngs of tourists and the golden sun spilling across the tiles until it yawned long and thin into the walls.  
Slowly, the crowds thinned out, and a security guard came over to tell them they were closing down for the day. Sam thanked them and stood up to stretch. When he turned to collect Cas, he spotted him already up and about, kneeling on the floor inspecting something.  
  
"What you got there?" Sam asked, and Cas looked up at him with a serious expression and tapped a long finger on the tile.  
  
"Someone carved something into this," he said. Sure enough, there were deep gouges in the marble, crudely scratched Latin. Sam could just barely make it out.  
  
_I was broken glass shattered on the floor  
__Until you picked me up  
__And made me a stained-glass window in a cathedral to your name_  
  
  
"Someone put that there last week," the security guard said in a thick Italian accent. "We meant to get to it sooner, our apologies."  
  
"It's...familiar," Cas murmured. The guard blinked.   
  
"What?"  
  
"Nothing," Sam assured him. "Thank you, we're going to go now."  
  
He placed a hand on Castiel's shoulder. The angel didn't budge, and then seemed to collect himself and stood up.  
  
"Sorry, Sam," he said. "I thought...I don't know what I thought."  
  
He looked down at the writing almost sadly. "It almost looked like Balthazar's writing. He always liked leaving poetry everywhere. You should have seen what he wrote over Pompeii." Cas let out a shaky exhale as he paused, blinking up at Sam. "Mostly genital-based jokes, though."  
  
"But he's gone, Cas," Sam said quietly, and slung an arm over his shoulder to lead him out and away. He slipped his hand reflexively into Castiel's, who squeezed limply back.  
  
"Yes," Castiel agreed. "He is. But it does not mean I do not see the weight of my mistakes everywhere I go." He glanced over his shoulder at the tile.  
  
"And I'm not sure I ever will stop seeing it. Or deserve to."  
  
They left the poem and the towering Basilica behind them, and Sam didn't let go of his hand the whole way out.  
  
                                                                                        *   *   *  
  
  
  
  
  
  
   



	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh hey look it's the chapter that bumped this up to the explicit rating and the rosary tag, neat  
> -coughs- is it really slow burn if the couple in question get it on in under 10k words?
> 
> song while typing(and yes, every song I listen to is weird and slightly emo): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vagd1TGZhGI

They returned to the room just as the sun was beginning to set. It turned out the room was actually in a tower in what looked to be an ancient monastery that accommodated tourists as a makeshift bed and breakfast, and Castiel assured Sam nobody was coming back anytime soon.  
  
Sam collapsed on the bed as soon as they finished climbing the winding stairs and the springs creaked.   
  
"This was a great day, Cas," he said, and felt the other man dip into the mattress next to him. "One of the best days, really. Thanks."  
  
He smiled and Cas offered a small quirk of his lips in return, and the exhaustion dropped off Sam and all he could think about was capturing those lips again in his own. He cleared his throat and sat up, feeling self conscious.  
  
"So..." Sam could see how Castiel was fidgeting with the edge of the sheet, "Dean's probably back. You got enough juice, you think...? To zap us back," he added. Castiel's fidgeting intensified, and the edge of the sheet was starting to fray a bit.  
  
Cas picked at the threads. "I...uh...few more hours?" He looked hopefully up at Sam and then quickly looked away.  
  
"Oh my God," Sam exclaimed. He flopped dramatically on the covers. "You're really going to keep me hostage to  _make out_ with you. At the end of the world."  
  
"No!" Castiel protested. He deflated when Sam threw him a meaningful look from under his arm before straightening to sit up against the headboard. "...Yes. Though I would not call it something that crude. We're not making anything."  
  
Sam hesitantly placed his hand on Castiel's arm and smoothed it over the sleeve of his coat, feeling the body heat through the fabric. This felt different, more personal now that their possible impending actions weren't impulsive.   
  
"Do you want to?" he murmured as he nosed Castiel's earlobe, and the angel shivered.  
  
   "Want to what, Sam?"   
  
"Make something."  
  
Sam could feel the vibration of Castiel swallowing hard from where he was currently nestled in the hollow of his throat.  
  
   "Yes."  
  
Screw it.   
  
The world was always ending.   
  
Sam smiled into Castiel's hair as he slid large hands up the sides of his face and planted slow, small kisses everywhere he could reach, the stubbled side of his cheek, the sharp as glass jawline, his eyelids, his full but slightly chapped lips.   
They parted as Castiel's breath hitched, and Sam brushed his open mouth against his to deepen the kiss, hand gently cupping the back of his neck. The thrum of electricity under his tongue was back along with an unplaceable sweetness. It served as a reminder that the being he was currently caressing was not human, and it sent a jolt of excitement into his gut.   
  
He pulled off for breath. Castiel's eyes were wide, and he was panting slightly, lips flushed as pink as his face.  _I did that,_ Sam thought with a note of pride. The angel could throw him out of the window without so much as a thought, and it took all he could to bite off his groan.  _He's letting me do this.  
_ From here, he could count every striation in his irises, catalogue every ocean wave in them, and  _God_ , if he wasn't what as beautiful as he had always imagined angels to be.  _I don't deserve this,_ he thought with a pang of regret.  
  
Sam slipped off the trenchcoat and suit jacket( _so many layers, might as well be a Winchester already_ ) and set them aside. He looked smaller in only his scrubs.  
Castiel's hands clenched and unclenched at his sides as if he wasn't sure what to do with them, and Sam scooped them up and placed them on his chest.  
  
"This is the part where you touch back," he said quietly, as if speaking louder would break whatever plane of reality this was happening on. Castiel flicked his eyes from Sam's broad chest to his face and slowly began rubbing small circles hesitantly. Sam hummed in approval, pushing forward until he was bracketing the angel against the pillows with his legs awkwardly splayed to either side of his hips.  
  
"Sam-"  
  
   "Castiel," Sam whispered, palms skirting under his shirt and dipping down to tease at his waistband, and Cas shuddered as he arched into his touch, "Can I take these off?"  
  
"Sam," Cas tentatively lifted the edge of Sam's tee, "You do not have to ask me. I said yes."  
  
   "I want to," Sam answered simply, pulling his shirt off in one motion and helping the angel struggle out of his own. He bent down to lavish open-mouthed kisses on his collarbone, his chest, lingering on hardened nipples, and Castiel squirmed. "I don't think anyone's cared whether we say _yes_ or not for a long time."  
  
Sam hooked his fingers under Castiel's waistband to slide them down his thighs. He lifted his legs shamelessly to wiggle out of them and stared back at Sam all the while. The flush had bloomed in an uneven patch over his chest, and he couldn't tear his eyes away. He stroked his fingers up his hipbones, over the plane of his stomach and his ribs, watching as Cas' cock jumped against his belly. It was cut, decent length, tip blushed the same reddened pink as his mouth, and dare Sam say it,  _pretty._  
  
The world was ending, of that he was certain. But there was other things he was certain of, in the feeling of Castiel's hands gripping his shoulders and threading through his hair, in the shape of his mouth when a small  _"Oh"_ slipped out when Sam cupped the weight of his balls and ground the heel of his palm against his cock, in the taste of Cas' leaking precum as Sam lifted two fingers to his mouth and flicked his tongue out to sample, in how Castiel whimpered helplessly at the sight.  
  
There were other things Sam was certain of in the face of the world ending, and maybe, maybe it was enough.  
  
"Where'd you get this?" Sam spotted the line of small wooden beads tangled around the curve of the angel's neck. He pulled out the rosary curiously.   
  
"Priest...gave it to me," Cas gasped as Sam slid his fingers further down and began to massage at his perineum, "I thought it would be rude to r-refuse-"  
  
"Isn't it, like, bad to wear rosaries in Catholicism?"  
  
"None of you- _ah,_ " His words ended in a squeak when Sam wrapped the rosary around his cock, the highest pitch Sam had heard from him, and he glared darkly as Sam laughed, "None of you got it right."  
  
"Yeah, you're pretty old," Sam teased, and he kissed the side of his neck and slid his hand over the head of his cock, rubbing the slit with the crucifix pressing into his palm and watching as his eyes rolled in his head. "I guess you are lucky I like worshipping older people."  
  
Cas covered his face with his hands to muffle a deep moan. "No, don't, don't worship, I'm not _God_ , Sam-"  
  
"Here is the church," Sam said brightly, bracing a hand under Castiel's knee and pushing his legs up, and he let go of Cas just to tap on his cock and watch his hips jerk in place when he planted a kiss to the wooden cross, "And here is the steeple."  
  
"I...I don't..." Castiel squinted at him confusedly, hands roving over Sam's thighs, "Is that a children's nursery rhyme?"  
  
   "You got a reference," Sam grinned. He kneaded his fingers gently into the space behind his balls again, making Cas cry out. "You don't happen to be well enough to mojo up lube, do you?"  
  
The last word hadn't even left his lips before Sam was suddenly blinking at a pile of boxes and bottles surrounding them on the bed and nightstand dresser. The drawers creaked in protest, and he suspected they had also been suddenly filled with various lube.  
  
"Uh..." He picked up a nondescript bottle and uncapped it, letting the cold lubrication coat his fingers generously and rubbed them together to warm it up. "Hm."  
  
   "I did not know which you preferred so I got every brand," Castiel explained. He was biting his bottom lip nervously. Sam nodded slowly as if that made perfect sense. He slipped in his index finger, feeling the angel tense up, muscles hot and constricting at the intrusion.   
  
"You gotta relax, Cas," Sam told him, and Cas exhaled hard but seemed to make an effort to relax as Sam's finger slid in all the way.  
  
"You cannot hurt me," Cas said, furrowing his brow when Sam grasped his flagging erection, stroked with the smooth beads up and down his length, and added another finger.   
Sam chuckled.  
  
"True, but, it can really chafe me." He crooked his fingers and rubbed along the walls until he found it, eliciting a surprised moan. He grinned wider. "And there's that. That's pretty fun."  
  
"Yes," Cas gasped, and shoved his hips down with more force than he meant to onto Sam's fingers, almost jostling him off the bed. "More. Please, Sam."  
  
Sam obliged, pulling away to pour more lube over his own cock and lining up. He pushed in past the rim as gentle and slow as possible despite knowing he couldn't hurt him. Castiel wiggled impatiently, legs locking around Sam's back as he tried pushing deeper back on his cock. He threw his head back and groaned in unison with Sam as he bottomed out.   
  
"Sam..."  
  
Even with prep he was still ridiculously tight, searing,pulsing heat wrapped around Sam's cock. Sam had to make a conscious effort to not go over the edge and stayed put, not moving, breathing harshly against Cas' chest as he collected himself.  
  
"I like when you say my name like that," he said softly, and he could feel Castiel's trembling fingers run through his hair.   
  
   "Like what, Sam?" Cas asked, and Sam could feel the reverberation of his delicious smoked dark-chocolate voice from under where his forehead rested against his chest.   
  
"Like that," Sam whispered, and muffled Cas' sharp, pleasured moan in his mouth when he began to move. "Like I'm something...worthy," Sam nipped at the fluttering heartbeat on the surface of his Adam's apple, laving it with his tongue as his thrusts became more forceful. "Like I'm alive. Like I deserve to be alive."  
  
" _Sam_ ," Castiel moaned, hips stuttering in response to where his leaking cock was trapped between their bellies, where the cross was surely going to leave an imprint into Sam's skin, " _Sam, Sam, Saaam-_ "  
  
"I got you, I got you," Sam panted as his pace became erratic, and Cas arched with an overwhelmed sound somewhere between a scream and a sob, mouth falling open and blue eyes blown wide as Sam peppered him feverishly with kisses. He watched as the crucifix bounced on Castiel's reddened cock as he came all over himself, spasming, clenching  _hard_ around Sam, and it was enough. It was all enough, and Sam followed him soon after, and all he could see was waves crashing on a distant shore and the constellations dancing behind his eyelids.  
  
                                                                                        *   *   *  
  
  



End file.
